Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon. Also, this contains spoilers for "Kokuhaku/Confessions." And more Takeru/Angemon-related angst because I am obsessed and can't for the life of me figure out the rest of ch 11 for "Hell over Me."
a/n: This... came out of nowhere, tbh. It's stupid and weird and I might take it down. It can be considered a companion to my other one-shot, Absent, although you don't have to read that. But you do kind of have to watch the third movie of Tri to understand this. So, well, enjoy. Thank you for reading.
Takeru watches the night sky bleed into the city like it's made of water. The lights from it threaten to drown out the stars twinkling above, but the expanse of inky dark blue touches every part of the large town that it can reach anyway, reigning the world peacefully as the sun sleeps.
Sleep.
That's what Takeru should be doing right now. It's well past midnight, maybe even close to one, and given any other night, Takeru would be sleeping. But right now, it isn't rest that his mind craves; no, it's answers.
Answers to questions like why it had to be them. Why did this have to happen to his friends; to his brother; to him; to Patamon? It's selfish, and it's not like he wishes for anyone else to go through the same type of pain that he endured at the vulnerable and delicate age of eight, but he has already lost his partner once. And the hurt that he'd felt that day was so incredibly raw and overwhelming that it had felt like he'd witnessed his partner dissolve a hundred times over.
Because he hadn't known that Patamon would be reborn. The moment his best friend started to fade was the moment his whole world broke into pieces, and that's a kind of despair that one can never truly forget. To know that the creature whom he'd so fondly called a part of his family—even if it's a broken family—was gone forever pierced through his heart so deeply that no bandage could repair the wound it had left.
It will always be something that haunts him, and there's no one he can talk to make the image of his partner dying leave. Just like there's no one he can talk to that will make the image of Angemon, completely out of control, attacking his comrades go away, either.
"If I get too violent… finish me off."
"You're so stupid," the keeper of Hope murmurs in anger, wiping at his eyes. He'd cried so much in the past few days that it's becoming hard to tell when the tears start or when they stop. Still, as they descend down the curves of his cheeks, he thinks that it's stupid, how many tears he has put on display. "Thinking I could kill you… or that anyone else could… you're… you're my best f-friend…"
His shoulders shake silently as he fights back sobs. His best friend. But Patamon is so much more than that. Like his other half. A part of his soul. And how does one recover from losing fifty-percent of what makes him, him? How long does it take? Months? Years? He doesn't have that time, especially with everyone else being pushed to their limits as well.
In the back of his mind, he knows he's not alone. His friends, his brother, have to be feeling this kind of agony at the exact same moment. Sora, Hikari, Yamato, Taichi, Koushiro, Jyou. Even Meiko… they're experiencing the same sense of loss that he is. But the voice that tells him this fact is so quiet compared to the one that screams that they hadn't already watched their partners die right in front of them. They hadn't felt this weight—this burden—on their shoulders before.
If he hadn't failed his partner, had been able to protect him, then everyone else wouldn't have to feel any kind of pain like this at all.
Everyone else… what would it have been like if I had told everyone else? Would they have been able to save you, given enough warning? Or would you still have turned into…
His thoughts end there, and his eyes widen in horror when he realizes the word that had almost crossed his mind. Monster. Angemon… a monster. He can't believe himself, calling his best friend such a name. Angemon isn't a monster. Whatever that virus did to his partner, it didn't make him a monster. It… it just… it made him… not Angemon.
Angemon. Angel. That's what his partner was. Is. An Angel. It's part of his name.
But… but there's the other part of his name… mon. Short for monster. Angemon. Monster.
Angel. Monster. Angemon.
Angels can't be monsters, can they?
The familiar pain swelling in his chest shifts and dulls. Fear breaks through in its place; attacks every inch of him until he's shaking. All of the sudden he's not seeing Angemon dying… he's seeing Angemon killing.
He sees the red that takes over his partner; sees the unfamiliar rage and lack of control that crosses Angemon's features. Sees him flicker crimson, over and over again, and he can still hear the pained, foreign screams that rip from the digimon's throat as he turns on his friends.
"No," he says quietly, hands tugging at his hair in an attempt to pull the horrible image out of his brain. "No, no… Angemon, you're not a monster… You're not a monster, I promise."
"Takeru?"
Said blond stills, feeling his stomach twist uneasily. Does not even think about turning around to face his older brother. "Hi, Onii-chan."
"It's past one o'clock," Yamato says tiredly, softly. "You should go to sleep."
Right. It's the second night that he has stayed with his brother. The second night that he has gone without Patamon. He probably woke Yamato up with all this stupid crying, and it isn't the first time he has done it.
If he weren't so overwhelmed with guilt and fear, he would have turned around and obeyed his older sibling. He's exhausted, and even if he knows that he won't sleep, he can at least pretend to. He's good at pretending.
He'd pretended that nothing was wrong with Patamon. Pretended that his concerns were placed on Yamato's future with his music group. Pretended that he was ok, even though he obviously isn't at the moment. Hasn't been ever since Patamon bit his arm while under the influence of the virus.
Instead, he stays facing the night sky, forcing his voice not to waver. "Not right now. I want to… to be alone."
Alone with this constant loneliness; with this guilt; with this fear; with this haunting picture of his best friend struggling; with this hurt that will never, ever leave. Alone. Perhaps that is what's best right now.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Yamato whispers as if thinking the exact opposite, sounding closer. Older, somehow.
"Can you tell me something, Onii-chan?" he asks, with his back still turned.
"Hmm?"
"You… you don't think that Angemon is a monster, do you?"
Yamato marches up to him with remarkable speed. Makes Takeru jump in surprise. The keeper of Friendship rests a hand on his shoulder, and before he knows it, he's looking into sapphire eyes that are a few shades darker than his own.
"What the hell makes you think I would think that?"
"I…" He pauses, swallowing. "He was the first one who was infected, Onii-chan."
Yamato's face falls in a way that makes Takeru regret speaking altogether. "That's… that's still bothering you, Takeru?"
"I feel like it's all my fault," he confesses.
"Well it's not," the other assures, with more resolve than Takeru can ever hope to have. "And Angemon's not a monster. I… I know that you're still scared, Takeru. Believe me, I am, too. What happened to our partners was terrifying. But it wasn't anyone's fault, let alone yours. Angemon wasn't Angemon, you know that."
He doesn't reply, simply out of shock and guilt. His brother may or may not have been speaking the truth, but it certainly feels like he's still by himself. Like this weight on him is his to carry alone. Like it's his responsibility to find his best friend.
"He'd do it again, you know," Yamato finishes quietly. "Die for you. He told me himself. He was there for you when I couldn't be. He protected you in ways that no one else could. And someone who protects you with his life and is willing to sacrifice everything for you… that's not a monster. That's a guardian angel."
Takeru takes a deep, quivering breath. Swallows hard. "It's my turn to protect him this time, Onii-chan."
His mind is dead set on it.